Start the Day With a Bang

I'm on my way to work.  Driving.  I'm not in a good mood.  Work has been ... trying ... as of late.  So, the morning drive is not exactly a happy time.  (I'm working on it.)  My window is down.  The cold air feels good on my face.  The Dead Kennedys ("Holiday in Cambodia," which I find ironic because once again we have Governor Jerry Brown) blaring over the speakers.  I'm heading toward Broadway. 

The ginch in the banged up Mercury doesn't even look.  He just pulls part way out of the side street.  I swerve.  We don't hit, but boy does he glare at me.  The guy pulls out onto a street without looking and he glares at me.  He glares at me.  

I glare right back.  I'm hoping it will escalate.  A little justified violence will be a good way to start the morning.  I watch as he pulls out behind me.  He looks oh-so-angry.  Maybe he's ticked because he wanted to hit me and missed.  I want him to pull over, or indicate that I should ... because I will ... because I have this sudden thought.  This is how I picture it go down.  It would make for an interesting tale.

In my mind I see us pull over.  He's out of the car quick.  Shouting obscenities.  Arms wildly out of control.  I get out.  I'm calm.  I approach him.  He goes to push me.  I move in closer.  I grab his face ... and I start biting it.  Inhuman growls.  Chomping at it.  How the hell would a person react to getting eaten?

For the first time on this small hop to work, I have a smile on my face.  I make it to the parking lot of work, crisis and cannibalism averted.  King Automatic is on my stereo now.  My smile has faded somewhat.  I had spent a few hours before work editing a short story.  Small consolation.

I shut the car off.  Finish my morning texts.  Make my way into the building.  King takes Queen every time ...